


New Moon

by transfixeddream



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/pseuds/transfixeddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Scott being bit, he and Stiles discover that it's not just full moons werewolves need to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round two of stop_drop_howl, for the prompt 'moonless.'

Stiles gets a text message from Scott at 10:53, a simple _im comin ovr_ that Scott's sent him a countless number of times, so much so that Stiles' phone usually marks it as a duplicate. It's unsuspecting enough that Stiles thinks nothing of it until he hears pounding five minutes later, and he opens the door to find Scott flushed and sweating, his hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes glossy.

"Is your dad home?" Scott asks, and his voice is tight, a little pained.

"Uh, no, he's working tonight. What's up with--"

"Good," Scott says, not letting Stiles finish his question as he pushes past him into the house. Stiles does a quick glance around outside, just to make sure Derek or something else isn't the reason his best friend looks like he's just finished running twenty marathons. It's all clear, though, so Stiles shuts the door, locks it just in case, and then turns to face Scott who's leaning against the back of the couch.

"Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?" Stiles asks, and if he sounds a little hysterical, well. Scott shouldn't show up on his doorstep sweaty and looking like death if he doesn't want Stiles to raise his voice.

Scott shakes his head, something that makes his entire body tremble in the process, and Stiles is actually pretty terrified right now. He should probably call somebody--911, maybe. Yeah, he should call 911 and get an ambulance up here before Scott collapses or something. "I don't _know_ ," Scott whines, voice high. "It hit me a couple of hours ago. I thought--I thought it'd just go away, but it's just _not_."

"Thought what'd go away?" Stiles prods. "You're not making any sense, man. What's not going away?"

Scott turns around and squeezes his eyes shut, and he groans as he points to his--

_Oh_. Wow, okay.

Scott's dick is pressed tight to the seam of his pants, and there's a dark, wet patch right where the head should be. It's not like Stiles has never seen Scott hard before, but a boner is not the first explanation that came to mind for Scott's pain. Although Stiles figures that being hard for hours would probably not be a great experience, he's not sure it'd warrant the amount of sweating Scott's doing.

"Have you tried to, uh. You know." Stiles mimes a jerking motion with his hand, which only makes Scott groan again.

"Three times."

"And it just... keeps staying up?"

" _Stiles_ ," Scott stresses, breathing harshly through his nose. And, hey, it's not Stiles' fault that he needs to know the details; googling 'ways to get rid of an erection' is not going to do them any favors unless Scott can get some specific answers. "Yes, it keeps staying up!"

"You didn't take anything, did you?"

"No," Scott says, growling a little.

"Alright, alright," Stiles says, holding his hands up. "I'll see what I can find online. Can you walk up the stairs?"

Luckily Scott _can_ walk up the stairs, though Stiles keeps a firm grip on him just in case. Falling down a flight of stairs with a boner you've had for a couple of hours is probably not the best thing for somebody to do. They make it to Stiles' room, and Scott plops down on the bed while Stiles fires up his laptop.

"You can, uh, I don't know--unzip your fly or whatever, if it hurts too much." Stiles isn't exactly sure on the best way to tell his best friend to take his pants off. He hears the zipper go down and Scott let out a sigh, and he opens Google. "Okay, so. How do I even word this?"

All Stiles gets from Scott is an unintelligible grumble in response. Stiles chews on his lip and tries 'erection won't go away,' but it brings up a bunch of stuff on priapism, which Scott probably doesn't have, and facts about Viagra and what to do if the effects backfire, and all in all it's not much help. Adding 'teenager' to the front of the search only brings up links to porn, which according to Scott's three earlier attempts, probably won't help very much either.

Then, Stiles gets a crazy, awesome thought. So crazy awesome that he'll excuse the fact that he didn't think of it immediately after Scott showed up. "Hey, do you think this could be a werewolf thing?"

Scott looks up from the bed, face pinched, and he says, "I really hope not. But it probably is. Shit."

"Heightened senses _and_ a permanent boner. I'm so jealous." Stiles says, glancing out of the window. It's a dark night--nothing to see in the sky. "Hey, is this the first time this happened?"

"No, it happens every Saturday, I just decided to tell you about it now," Scott says, and if Stiles weren't the best best friend a newbie werewolf could ever ask for, he might let Scott endure the pain for that sarcastic response. Instead, he types in 'new moon effect on werewolves' and starts perusing the links. There's really not much to be found: most articles that turn up seem to contain more information on full moons, and wow, if any of this is factual Scott is in for a shitstorm of weird.

Well, if you can get weirder than a hard on that just won't go down.

While there appears to be little on the subject of new moons and werewolves, all the sites he checks out seem to agree on a few basic concepts. Which is good, because Stiles really wants to be certain about what's wrong with Scott before he springs something on him, especially something like this.

"Alright, I have some good news and some bad news," Stiles starts, and when Scott just grunts in response, he continues. "The good news is that I found out what is most likely the issue. The bad news... uh. Well, the bad news is that I think you're in heat."

Scott just blinks from the bed. "I'm what?"

"Heat," Stiles repeats, swallowing. "You know, like how animals--"

"Yeah," Scott says. "I know what it means. But, _what_?"

"It's actually kind of interesting. See, you'd think the moon wouldn't affect you when it's not visible, right? But it's still there, and according to this, it's because of the alignment with the sun that--"

"Stiles," Scott interrupts again. "You can fill me in on the details later. Just tell me how to stop it."

"Oh," Stiles says. "Well, it's really simple, actually. Or, well, it _could_ be simple, but in your case it's probably..." When Scott narrows his eyes, Stiles cuts to the chase. "You have to have sex."

"I told you, I already jacked off--"

"Self-love is not the same thing. What, do you think animals just masturbate and they're good to go?"

Scott groans. "Stop putting me in the same category as an animal."

"Sorry," Stiles says. "But... yeah. You kind of have to, you know. With somebody other than your hand."

Scott closes his eyes for a minute and thinks. "Okay, um... Allison."

"Allison," Stiles repeats skeptically. "Really."

"She's my girlfriend now. I think."

"Of like, two days," Stiles points out. "You went on one date. I don't think she'd react well to you showing up at her house looking the way you look, needing sex. And you kind of smell." He waits for that knowledge to sink into Scott's head. "Also? Uh, you kind of need... well, a dude."

Scott stares at him. "Why do I need a dude?"

"Because you need his ji--"

"Don't finish that," Scott says. He buries his head into a pillow and makes a sound very close to a whimper. Stiles sort of wants to pat his head, but he's pretty sure that's not going to help the whole treating-him-like-an-animal thing.

Stiles gives Scott a few moments to compose himself before he continues. "The way I see it, you have three options. One, you can try to find Derek, because he's probably in the same boat. Two, we can look in the classifieds for anything resembling a casual sex ad."

When Stiles stops, Scott removes the pillow from his face and asks, "What's option three?"

"Well," Stiles starts, clearing his throat. He rubs the back of his neck and forces out a laugh. "Me. Uh, I mean, I could... you know."

"What?" Scott sits up in the bed immediately. "No way. No, I can't ask you to..."

"It's not that big of a deal," Stiles says, doing his best to dismiss the issue. "I mean, I'd like to think I'm the most appealing choice of the three. And waiting for it to go away is probably going to end with you dying or something."

And truthfully, Stiles doesn't think it's that big of a deal. Sure, the concept of Scott being in _heat_ is sort of freaky, but it's not any freakier than the concept of Scott being a werewolf in general. Weird werewolf heat is apparently just one of the fun side effects from Scott's new condition, and Stiles can make Scott feel better, and that's the important thing here.

"It's not that, really," Scott says. "It's just--Allison."

"I'm sure Allison would rather you do this than die of supernatural blue balls," Stiles says, and he thinks it's true. Allison would probably be sad if it's possible to die from werewolf heat and Scott does, especially considering the fact that she doesn't even know he's a werewolf. It's mostly beneficial to everybody.

Scott nods, but frowns. "How would you--are you even gay?"

"I've dabbled," Stiles says, because he's not going to go over his long exploration of pornography with Scott when his friend's not looking so hot. Plus, it doesn't really matter what Stiles is into in this case. "And I'm sixteen; I could get hard looking at a watermelon."

"Oh."

"So?" Stiles presses. "You don't have to, really. I'm sure there's somebody in the ads who--"

"Okay, let's do it," Scott says, hissing as he places his hand on his dick. He catches his lip between his teeth, considering Stiles for a short moment. "It's not gonna be weird, is it?"

"Of course not," Stiles says, standing up. "I just have to fuck my best friend the werewolf because he's in heat. What's weird about that?"

Scott manages a slight smirk despite himself, and then he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. Stiles does the same, and okay, it's maybe a _little_ weird. He's seen Scott naked a hundred times over and vice-versa, but that was in gym class around twenty other people. Watching Scott get naked now, in the privacy of Stiles' bedroom--yeah, it's gonna take a minute or two for Stiles to adjust.

Scott slides his pants and underwear off, and wow, his dick _is_ incredibly hard. It juts up straight, long and thick and flushed, the precome dribbling from the head pretty profusely. Stiles isn't sure if that's a Scott thing or a werewolf heat thing, or some combination of both, and he doesn't ask. Instead he takes off his own pants and boxers, and then he's standing naked in his bedroom with his best friend, and they're going to have sex.

Okay, it's still sort of weird.

"I, um. I guess we need lube," Stiles manages. "And, uh. I think you should probably be on all fours. And that's not an animal thing, that's a first time gay sex comfort thing," he quickly adds when Scott narrows his eyes at him.

"Okay," Scott says, and he does as he's told while Stiles grabs the lube from his nightstand.

Stiles presses the palm of his hand to his cock, rubbing down the length of it, and he's already filling out, growing hard. When he looks up Scott is on his hands and knees, and best friend or not, Stiles' dick can't help but react appropriately. Stiles climbs onto the bed and crawls on his knees behind Scott, and pops open the bottle of lube.

"You're gonna--I need to open you up a little first," Stiles says. He's not sure if he's telling it to Scott or to himself, but he figures it probably doesn't matter. He squirts some lube over two of his fingers and spreads it evenly with his other hand, and then he grips Scott's waist.

Stiles doesn't waste time with it, pressing the end of his finger against Scott's opening and then pushing in on Scott's light moan. It's tight, impossibly so, and--oh god, so warm. He's done this to himself a handful of times, but it's definitely an entirely different experience doing it to somebody else--doing it to Scott. He moves forward slowly, sinking in deeper, and it's Scott pressing back that finally gets Stiles' finger all the way in.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks, because it feels like the kind of thing he should ask.

"Y-yeah," Scott replies. "More."

Stiles doesn't obey immediately, taking his time to slide the first one in and out a couple of times, making sure that Scott's ready for two. When he does add the second one, he follows the same process, just sinking in one fraction of an inch at a time until he can move them back and forth with ease. He bends them, pressing inside, and Scott gives a full body shudder, his voice shaking as he releases an assortment of swears. Stiles doesn't have to ask if he's okay, this time. This one he can pretty much figure out by himself.

He pulls out and adds more lube to his fingers, and he's only beginning to press them in when Scott growls--actually _growls_ \--and says, "No, come on. I just--I need it, man. Not your fingers, bigger."

It's a mess of words but Stiles gets the idea, and he nods even though of course Scott can't see it, and he pulls back. He bites down on his lip as he carefully coats his dick with lube, and then lines up with Scott. Scott's hole is shiny and slick from the prep, and this is totally not the way Stiles imagined losing his virginity--not that he imagined it, obviously, because that would be pathetic--though he's not really complaining. He wraps his fingers around the base of his dick, holds Scott's hip with his free hand, and he pushes in.

And it's--well. _Wow_. It's pretty fucking spectacular, is what it is. Stiles presses until the head is in, and it takes everything in him not to go farther, to be sheathed entirely in the warmth. He waits a few moments and pushes a little deeper, easing up and pulling until he's almost out, and then he pushes back in again.

It's actually a lot harder than Stiles thought, because he has to resist the impulse to slide in completely while at the same time resist the urge to pretty much come immediately. Scott is tight all around, and sure, Stiles knew that from logic and his fingers, but fingers are nothing compared to making Scott open up on his dick. It doesn't help that Scott's rocking back against it, barely there motions that feel like long, tantalizing inches from Stiles' position, either.

Stiles bites his cheek to keep himself in check, and he nudges his hips and slides in a little deeper. Scott is already jacking himself off, but he's doing so leisurely--not to get anywhere, just to stave off the effects of the heat. He's panting, hard breaths of air against his arm, and Stiles thinks it sounds good filling his ears.

It probably doesn't take that long for Stiles to bottom out, but it feels like hours of push and pull before his skin is flush against Scott's. He stays like that for a moment, letting the orgasm that was halfway building reside enough to keep going. Scott makes this noise from the back of his throat and clenches around Stiles' dick, and he says, tight and strung up, "Fuck me, man. Come on, fuck, please, I need--"

Stiles clutches Scotts' hips in both hands and slides out until only his head his left inside, and then he slams home, eliciting a cry from Scott as he proceeds to do it again, and again, and again. They get a fast rhythm going, Scott rocking back to meet Stiles' thrusts. Stiles' fingers are digging into Scott's skin, but the marks will be there for all of five minutes before Scott heals, so he can't bring himself to care. His body is soaked in sweat and feels like it's on fire in the best way, and it feels like electricity running down his spine, driving him on.

Scott is jerking himself quickly now, his arm bobbing up and down as fast as Stiles fucks him. Stiles builds up even more speed as the minutes tick by, his thrusts becoming shorter, more spastic movements as he feels his orgasm building. He gets off another couple of pumps before Scott comes, letting out a moan that stretches and stretches. He tightens around Stiles and that's enough to set Stiles over the edge, and he trembles a little as he comes inside Scott.

Stiles sort of collapses on Scott after he pulls out, which will probably be embarrassing looking back on this experience later. He stays there until Scott says, "Whoa," and takes Stiles' hand and puts it on his dick.

"Dude," Stiles says, because with the afterglow fading, he really does not want to touch Scott's jizz-covered dick. Except then he realizes that Scott is half-hard, and his eyes widen. "It actually worked? How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," Scott says. "But better."

"We need to figure out what you're going to do next month, if this happens again," Stiles says. "I don't want a repeat of tonight. Uh. I mean the you looking like death and me not knowing what the hell is wrong with you part." It feels necessary to stress that, though Scott probably knew what he meant without it.

"Right, yeah," Scott agrees readily. "Maybe I should talk to Derek about it."

"That'll go over so well," Stiles says, rolling over. "Okay, uh. Here's the deal. You can have first shower, but you're washing the blanket you just came on."

Scott laughs, which is a relief, because Stiles for some reason needs to know that he's not the only one who's okay with this--that it really _isn't_ weird, at least not yet. "Alright, deal."


End file.
